2.15: A midnight secret wedding! — Lucas Clavering's secret wealth. — Recovery of a woman hanged for murder! - The Penny Dreadful Hour: A Feast of Early-Victorian Street Literature and Stories

Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:10):
A tip top evening to all you Scampfoot, Soli, Campoli and
Knights of the Brush and Moon. I am your host, Finn JD John,
welcoming you back once again tothe Chafing Crib.
It's Sunday night and that meansit's time once again for the
Penny Dreadful variety hour. So slip off your surplus
toggery, top off your tumblers with old Tom's finest and swivel

(00:34):
your pit in my way. Another rare hour long noggin of
early Victorian prattlery is upon us.
Like the Honorable Arthur Chichester on a richly dressed
flat, the Penny Dreadful VarietyHour is the show that carries
you back to the city foggy streets of early Victorian
London when the latest batch of the story papers hit the

(00:56):
streets. And I don't mean the fancy ones
full of sketches by Boz and comments about Parliament, the
cheap scrappy ones that cost a penny, and the ones the Hamlets
and Rumquad calls call Penny Bloods or Penny Dreadfuls.
The Penny Dreadful Variety Show comes out three times a week.
This is the full hour long main Sunday night episode of the

(01:17):
Penny Dreadful Variety Show, which I keep clean enough for
everyone to appreciate and. If you're up for some.
Old English ghost stories and occult Nuggets.
This is where you'll find them if we've got them.
If you're here for the spicy bits, as spicy as we get around
here, Bobby's song lyrics is about as porny as we go, but
you'll find them in our Tuesday tupany terrible Demi Hour shows.

(01:40):
And for all you Victorian age Murderino's you will find the
Murder, War Crime and Deeds O Blood segment in the hapony
Horrid Half Hour episodes on Thursday nights.
Before we get started, a quick note.
Instead of slowing down the showby giving you a verbal
definition of all the flash terms in this episode, I've put
a short glossary of all the terms we used into the show

(02:02):
notes. If you hear one that's new to
you, you can look it up and I don't have to trespass on your
patience defining Knob and Old Tom and Knights of the Brush and
Moon for the thousandth time. So let's get going.
Here's what we've got in store for tonight.
We're going to start things off with a ghostly palate cleanser,

(02:22):
an article from the terrific Register, which is a truly
dreadful and salacious publication full of murders and
ghost stories from the 1820s. Was a regular weekly favorite of
Charles Dickens when he was a young sprout.
Today we're looking for spooky stuff from the Register, leaving
the gruesome death tales for thenext Hapeny Horrid Hers Day
episode. Don't worry, it'll be here soon

(02:43):
enough. Next comes chapter 17 of Black
Bess, or The Night of the Road by Edward Viles, which first
started publication in 1861. In it, we get Dick withdrawing
into the shadows to watch The Beatles, Solomon Gogs preparing
the church for what looks like it's going to be a midnight
clandestine wedding, and we're going to find out.

(03:05):
Soon, who is marrying whom by dark of night?
One of them eager and the other extremely reluctant.
But you will enjoy this charter a lot more if you know the story
of Elizabeth Pierre Pont. In fact, if you aren't familiar
with the story, I would recommend pausing this podcast
right now and looking it up on Wikipedia.
Look for Elizabeth Pierre Pont. It'll take you 10 or 15 minutes

(03:28):
to read it. We don't do homework assignments
on the Penny Dreadful Hours, so feel free to ignore my advice.
But let's just say that if you know the story of Elizabeth
Chudley Hervey Pierre Pont, Duchess of Kingston, and her
husband, the Earl of Bristol, and her other husband the Duke
of Kingston upon Hull, yes, thisis a bigamy story.

(03:50):
The next chapter of this dreadful will be considerably
more meaningful for you. After we get to it, we'll
explore a little lowbrow poetry from one of the flash camp songs
about highway robbers and pickpockets and other fun stuff
courtesy of one of the Supper club songbooks of the 1830s and
40s. After that, we'll take a short
break and come back with Chapter17 of The Black Band or The

(04:12):
Companions of Midnight by Mary EBradden, which first started
publication in 1861. In which we will cut to a new
scene, a heavily veiled woman meeting a user named Mr. Lucas
to borrow money. But something's going on.
She's clearly not what she seems.
Then we learn this user is LucasClavering, Ellen Clavering's

(04:35):
father, who has not. Heard a word.
From Ellen in six months and feeling betrayed by her, no
longer cares if he lives or dies.
Which is good, because it's soonobvious that the woman is an
agent of the Companions of Midnight and Colonel Bertrand is
this night planning his destruction.
Then we'll finish out the hour with a little something
allegedly funny or witty in the form of an article from an early

(04:57):
Victorian joke book, or maybe a popular comedy magazine like
Punch or Fun. It's time now for an article
from the terrific Register. This nugget was first published
in the early 1820s. Here we go.
Recovery of a woman who was hanged for murder.

(05:21):
The following singular circumstances recorded by Doctor
Plot in his Natural History of Oxfordshire.
In the year 1650, Anne Greene, aservant of Sir Thomas Reed, was
tried for the murder of her newborn child, and found guilty.
She was executed in the castle yard at Oxford, where she hung
about half an hour, being pulledby the legs and struck on the

(05:43):
breast, as she herself desired by diverse of her friends, and
after all had several strokes given her upon the stomach.
With the butt end of a soldier'smusket being cut down, she was
put into a coffin and brought away to a house to be dissected,
where, when they opened it, notwithstanding, the rope still
remained unloosed and straight about her neck, they perceived

(06:05):
her breast to rise. Whereupon 1 Mason, a tailor,
intending only an act of charity, set his foot upon her
breast and belly, and, as some say, 1 Aurum, a soldier, struck
her again with the butt end of his musket.
Notwithstanding all which, when the learned and ingenious Sir
William Petty, who was the son of a clothier at Rumsey, Hants,

(06:25):
his son was made Lord Shelbourne, and his lineal
descendant is now the Marquess of Lansdowne, then Anatomy
professor of the University. Doctor Wallace and Doctor Clark,
then President of Magdalene College and Vice Chancellor of
the University, came to prepare the body for dissection.
They perceived some small rattling in her throat,
whereupon desisting from their former purpose, they presently

(06:48):
used means for her recovery by opening a vein, laying her in a
warm bed, and caused another to go into bed To her also using
diverse remedies respecting her senselessness, head, throat and
breast, inasmuch that within 14 hours she began to speak, and
the next day talked and prayed very heartily.
During the time of this her recovering, the officers

(07:09):
concerned in her execution wouldneeds have had her away again to
have completed it upon her, but by the mediation of the worthy
doctors and some other friends with the then governor of the
city, Colonel Kelsey. There was a.
Guard put upon her to hinder allfurther disturbance, till he had
sued out her pardon from the powers, then being thousands of
people, in the meantime coming to see her, and magnifying the

(07:31):
just Providence of God, and thusasserting her innocence.
After some time, Doctor Petty, hearing that she had discoursed
with those around her, and suspecting that the women might
suggest unto her to relate something of strange visions and
apparitions she had seen during the time she seemed to be dead,
which they already had begun to do, Telling about that, she had

(07:51):
said she had been in a fine green Meadow.
Having a river running through it and that all things glittered
like silver and gold. He caused all to depart the room
but the gentlemen of the facultywho were to have been at the
dissection, and asked her concerning her sense and
apprehensions during the time she was hanged, to which she
answered at first somewhat impertinently, talking as if she

(08:12):
had been then to suffer. And when they spake unto her
concerning her miraculous deliverance, she answered that
she hoped God would give her patience and the like afterward,
when she was better recovered, She affirmed that she neither
remembered how the fetters were knocked off, nor how she went
out of the prison when she was turned off the ladder, whether
the Psalm was sung or not. Nor was she sensible of any

(08:33):
pains that she could remember. She came to herself as if she
had awakened out of a sleep, notrecovering the use of her speech
by slow degrees, but in a manneraltogether beginning to speak
just where she left off on the gallows.
Being thus at length perfectly recovered after Thanksgiving to
God and the person's instrumental in it, she retired
into the country to her friends at Steeple Barton, where she was

(08:56):
afterward married, and lived in good repute amongst her
neighbors, having three childrenafterwards, and not dying till
1650. 9. Now it is time for Chapter 17 of
Black Bess, starring highwayman Dick Turpin.

(09:17):
Last week in Chapter 16 of BlackBess, fleeing from the cops,
Dick found himself thundering down a very long straight Rd.
through open country and the moon was very bright.
Luckily, he knew a little dark lane that he might be able to
take, and if none of the grabs happened to be watching him when
he made his move, and apparentlynone of them were, He raced
through it to where it emerged on another highway and then

(09:39):
released his horse. While he was hiding and waiting
for the riders to race past, he heard them pull up and make very
excited sounds. Creeping forward, he peeped
through the hedge and saw that spectral rider of the previous
evening standing in the lane half a mile away.
The cops raced away after him. He ran away and Turpin decided
to climb the. Steeple in the nearby church to
watch them run. He got into the steeple, but he

(10:01):
couldn't see anything from the top.
But then he heard the riders coming back from behind the
church. They'd gotten turned around
somehow, or maybe he did anyway.They thundered past the church
as he watched the spectral riderlooking and dressed exactly like
Dick, the cops flogging their almost exhausted horses along.
When they were gone, Dick came down the Spire stairs, but

(10:22):
accidentally. He opened the door into the body
of the church and he was on the gallery looking down at the
stained glass window through which the moonlight was
streaming. He paused and rested gazing at
it for a few minutes and then someone entered the church.
It was the Beadle and Sexton, who was very drunk and babbling
happily to himself. He thus revealed that he was

(10:43):
there to act part of some sort of secret conspiracy for which
he was well paid, but would verymuch like the job to be over
soon so he could get back to thebar.
What job? We'll be finding out right now.
Chapter 17. The mystery of the Spectre

(11:03):
Horseman unraveled, to Dick's unqualified satisfaction, a
feeling of mingled curiosity andinterest.
To know what errand it was that at that unusual hour brought Mr.
Solomon Goggs to the church tookpossession of Turpin's mind, and
he waited very patiently to findout what it was.

(11:24):
Judging, however, that if he occupied his present position in
front of the organ he would run a great risk of being
discovered, he took the opportunity, while Mr. Goggs was
busily moving the bench and talking to himself, to step
round to the right hand side of the gallery, which happened to
be shrouded in deep shadow, for the moon was not shining quite
straight into the church, but rather obliquely.

(11:46):
Consequently one side of the gallery was quite light, while
the other was in darkness that seemed all the greater by the
contrast it presented to the other.
Here, Turpin felt he was secure from discovery.
By any chance observation own commonly bright the moon shines,
continued Mr. Goggs, who was nownot far from the chancel.

(12:06):
Uncommonly bright, it shines. That's a good line.
A musical line. Uncommonly bright.
Uncommonly bright. Uncommonly bright, it shines.
Mr. Goggs the Beatle chaunted the words to the tune of some
pothouse Diddy with which he doubtless was familiar.

(12:29):
He ended with quite a loud shines, which, in the stillness
of the Church, he considered came with a capital effect.
Bravo, now there's a stave. I wonder where anyone else is to
be found of my time of life. Who could come, That sort of
thing. Uncome, uncome, uncommonly
bright, it shines. I am decidedly invoiced tonight

(12:53):
and that makes a shame over greater that I should have to
leave my friends. He seems like a nice sort of
article, said Turpin to himself.I must certainly wait until I
know what he is going to do. I have a presentiment that it
will be something worth hearing.Hark, Mr. Solomon Gogs was
speaking. Again, what's the good too I

(13:15):
should like to know of sending me here on such a bright not as
this to light up a church no good at all.
No one would be able to see themfor moonshine, so.
Oh, suppose a snow sort of concern of mine, I might as well
light them. With a tremulous hand Mr. Goggs

(13:35):
began to light with a lamp, which he carried with him a
number of tall wax candles on the altar.
As he said, it did seem useless to light them, for the rays of
the moon quenched them utterly. It took Mr. Goggs some time to
accomplish his task, and he keptmuttering and grumbling all the
while. Oh, I have no patience with such

(13:56):
a bug. Not why?
Why fiduciary? They not come a respectable hour
when the Church ought to be leftentirely to those individuals
who live underneath it. Hang it, why don't he say what
it is that's brought him here? Said Turpin impatiently.
And not keep gabbling like that.I suppose if I want to gratify

(14:17):
my curiosity, I must wait there now, said Mr. Goggs, with an air
of satisfaction, as the last candle took light.
There now, that's all right. I suppose they will be here
directly, and I shall just have a place ready when they come.
Mr. Goggs now proceeded to dust and arrange some cushions, and

(14:39):
this job seemed to require all his breath, for he did not utter
a word while he was doing it. Ah, he sighed as he rose up and
straightened his back. That's done.
It kills me all most to knock them cushions about all tight.
A walk down to the door and say if they are on their way.

(15:00):
The deuce take it, said Turpin as the Beadle tottered down the
aisle. Why don't he say who's coming?
I almost fancy from his preparations if it's going to be
a marriage, and yet who can it be at this hour in this out of
the way place? There's something mysterious in
it, that's certain, and I will stay to see it out.
At this moment Mr. Goggs opened the church door to have a look

(15:21):
out, and as soon as he did so the grating of carriage wheels
reached Turpin's ears. He leaned over the balcony of
the gallery and tried to see whowas coming.
He was unable to account for theintense curiosity he felt.
The grating of the wheels ceased.
Then there was a murmur of voices, and a party of 5
immediately entered the church. The first, who made his way up

(15:42):
the aisle, was attired in clerical robes, and by the pure
light which streamed in, Turpin could perceive that he possessed
A remarkable oily looking countenance and a portly body to
correspond. Next came two persons, and these
in a moment. Riveted the whole of his.
Attention. They were male and female.
The former was a fair haired, good enough looking young man,

(16:04):
though many would have been displeased with several traits
in his physiognomy if they had been considered a part.
But in their entirety they would, by any but a very keen
observer, have been passed over unnoticed.
He was bareheaded, so Dick had agood opportunity of studying his
features. Not, however, that he did so
particularly, for he had recognized him at the first

(16:24):
glance. It was the afterward Earl of
Bristol, though at that time hischances of succeeding to the
title were very remote, and he was known only as the Honorable
Mr. Hervey. With an increased interest
Turpin turned his gaze upon the fair companion at his side, but
she was shrouded from head to foot in a rich white lace veil,
so he was unable to see her countenance.

(16:46):
From her form and carriage therecould not be the slightest doubt
that she was both young and beautiful.
Behind them again were two females, one of whom walked a
step or two in advance of the other, as if to show, even in
God's temple, where all should surely be alike, that she who
followed was an inferior. Neither of these were known to
Turpin. The rear was brought up by Mr.

(17:07):
Solomon Goggs, the Beadle, who seemed to have shaken off a
great deal of his intoxication, for he walked along in a very
pompous manner indeed. The minister opened the little
gate and the iron railings in front of the communion table,
and stepped into the enclosure. The Honourable Mr. Hervey and
his companion knelt down on the cushions which had nearly broken

(17:27):
the back of Mr. Goggs to dust and shake.
The two females stood a little on one side, and spoke together
in a whisper. Mr. Goggs, from some safe corner
where he had placed it, took a long black staff with a
formidable guilt affair on the top, with the sight whereof on a
Sunday morning he was won't to strike terror into the souls of

(17:47):
the charity children in the backseats of the gallery.
It's going to be a marriage, thought Turpin, That's evident
enough. But what in the world can Mr.
Hervey's motive be for coming here in the dead of night to be
married? There's something wrong going
on, I know. I wish I could see the bride's
face. Never.
Did a wish. Meet with a speedier
gratification than this did, forno sooner were the words out of

(18:11):
his mouth, and the prospective bride raised her hands and threw
the large white veil off her face.
A very beautiful countenance wasthen revealed, full of gaiety
and sparkling vivacity. At doubtless from its
configuration generally was, butnow the cheeks were wet with
tears. But if turp and surprise was
great upon seeing Mr. Hervey, itwas 1000 times increased when

(18:32):
the bright moonbeams fell upon this fair face.
He recognized it instantly, for he had seen it many times, and
it had never failed to call forth his greatest admiration.
Her name sprang involuntarily tohis lips.
Elizabeth Chudle, this extraordinary woman, who was
afterwards so notorious as the Duchess of Kingston, was at this

(18:53):
time occupying the position of maid of honor to the Princess of
Wales, mother of George the Third, and had already, by her
levity and intrigues, created anunenviable reputation.
But that she should be thus about to pledge herself to the
gentleman by her side filled Turpin with astonishment, for
popular rumor said she was betrothed to the Duke of
Devonshire, who was then traveling on the Continent.

(19:15):
His speculations were interrupted by the minister
commencing the ceremony. As it proceeded, the maid of
honor became violently agitated,and she, who stood behind her
with the domestic, stepped forward, and placing her hand
upon her shoulder, whispered a few words in her ear.
She shuddered and became calm. In thick, unctuous tones the
minister went on reading the service.

(19:38):
At length he came to that portion where the bridegroom has
to place the wedding ring upon the finger of the bride.
She refused to hold out her hand.
A look of the greatest conceivable vexation crossed Mr.
Hervey's face, and seizing her by the wrist, he forced the ring
upon her finger. The clergyman pretended to take
no notice of the circumstance. Again a few words were spoken to

(19:59):
the bride by the female, who apparently possessed much power
over her, but this time in a louder tone.
Dick strained his sense of hearing to the utmost, but he
could not catch their import. They appeared, however, to have
their due effect, for the maid of honor, now in name only,
ceased her struggles, and resigned herself to her fate.
The ceremony was completed, and the bride and bridegroom rose to

(20:22):
their feet. The former was very pale.
What secret agency Hask Dick of himself can be at work?
What power is it that woman possesses to 'cause this girl to
do that which I am certain her heart does not approve?
She loathes this man. I can see it in her countenance.
However, I cannot interfere, andeven if I could, it is now too

(20:42):
late. Mr. Hervey took the hand of his
young bride, and having kissed it, placed it beneath his arm.
The whole party then proceeded, headed by the Beadle and his
staff, to the vestry of the church, the door of which, as
soon as they had passed through,it, closed after them with a
bang. Well, this is a.

(21:05):
Very fun development as you willknow if you read up on Elizabeth
Pierrepont. These are historical characters,
and most readers of this dreadful knew the story.
Elizabeth Chudleigh was a wild young thing, very spunky and
adventurous and very, very pretty, and had quite a string
of titled admirers. Not to get pedantic, though.

(21:27):
The marriage depicted in this chapter happened in 1744, seven
years after the real Dick Turpinwas hanged at Tyburn Tree.
As you no doubt know, that was in 1737.
Which is, of course, why each episode of this podcast drops at
5:37 PM, or 1737 military time. Come to think of it, Elizabeth

(21:48):
Chudley wasn't yet 16 years old when Turpin was scragged.
But nobody was being picky aboutdates.
They were just having fun playing in the sandbox of
history in the next chapter. The next two chapters.
Rather, because they are very short and nothing much happens
in chapter 18, I've grouped themtogether in them.
Leaving the church, Dick strikesout on foot for London, hoping

(22:10):
to get black best back. Then he meets a farmer with a
wagon load of turnips and carrots heading for Covent
Garden Market. The farmer gives Dick a lift.
But has the farmer recognized him?
Will he try to turn him in and collect the £1000 reward?
We shall see. Before we move on to the Black
band, let's pause to appreciate one of the bits of poetical

(22:33):
fervor that we've been handed down from the early Victorian
era. Or rather, the late Regency,
because Queen Victoria did not ascend to the throne until well
after 1833, when this wonderful old songbook came out.
It's called the Corinthian, an extensive collection of flash
songs, slang, ditties and rum. Chants.

(22:54):
Published circa 1833 by Duncan of Holburn, London.
I found it in volume 4 of Body Song Books of the Romantic
Period, which was published in 2011 by Pickering.
Here we go. This one is called The Kadger's
Holiday. A celebrated out and out ditty
tune, Rumpty Bum. As a side note, I wish I could

(23:16):
figure out what that tune is, but I haven't been able to track
it down. Cadgers make holiday hay for the
maunders. Joys let pious ones fast and
pray they save us all the trouble.
My boys on the best peckin boos we'll live tis fit we their gold
should spend for what To us theygive tenfold To the Saints they

(23:38):
lend with our doxies so great asa Turk we taste all life can
give. For who but a slave would work
when he at his ease may live, Then lustily call away cadgers
keep up the ball, Never mind what's to pay, the public pays
for all. It's a short one, Just two

(23:58):
stanzas. And remember all the flash songs
will be defined in the show notes for this episode.
And now, with that, it's time totake a short break.
When we come back, we'll be ducking directly into our last
dreadful chapter of the evening,which is Chapter 17 of The Black
Band. You won't believe what that evil

(24:19):
Colonel Bertrand is plotting this time.
Stay tuned. Usually here.
Welcome back to the second-half of the weekly Sunday evening

(24:39):
Penny Dreadful Variety Hour. And now where were we?
Oh yes, moving on to our next dreadful.
Specifically, it's Chapter 17 ofThe Black Band or The Companions
of Midnight by Mary Elizabeth Bradden.
Now, last week in Chapter 16 of the Black Band, Lady Edith

(25:01):
Merton and her husband Robert were dining together alone in
her boudoir. Robert was delighted to finally
have his lovely wife all to himself, and he was very
affectionate toward her until heturned away from her to open a
bottle of champagne and watched in the mirror as her hand
stretched out. And put a.
Drop of something from a crystalfile into his empty champagne

(25:23):
glass, which he had been about to fill up.
Saying nothing, he filled her glass, leaving his own empty but
for the drop of poison. Then, after dismissing the
servant, he sat down at a writing table and dashed off a
letter, much to Lady Edith's wonderment, and sent it by one
of his servants to be delivered to the Earl of Horton, Edith's
father. Lord Horton came at once.

(25:46):
Robert rubbed a cube of raw steak in the wine glass and gave
it to Lady Edith's Italian greyhound, which in a few
minutes dropped dead. With this confirmation, Robert
told Lord Horton that Lady Edithwas either a murderous or a
madwoman, and in deference to the family, he proposed to treat
her as a madwoman by exiling herto a remote castle that he owned
in the Highlands, where she could be held basically a

(26:08):
prisoner in perpetuity. Well, that was all chapter 16.
We'll continue with Chapter 17 right now.
Chapter 17 On the Watch The lamps were being lighted in the
dusk of the July evening in the neighborhood of Saint James

(26:28):
Park, when a woman dressed in dark garments and with her face
concealed by a thick black veil,might have been seen by the
passers by walking slowly up anddown under the Avenue of trees
at the back of Carlton Terrace. Some of the passers by did turn
to look at her as they walked on.
For there is something in the aspect of a person who has no

(26:49):
particular errand, but who for some unknown reason hangs about
a spot that generally attracts the attention of curious
passengers. Eight 8:30.
A 8:45 struck from the clock of the Horse Guards.
But still the woman paced slowlyup and down, sometimes pausing
at the foot of the steps leadingto the Duke of York's column to

(27:10):
watch the people ascending and re ascending, and then resuming
her solitary ramble. It was almost impossible to
guess whether the woman was young or old, ugly or handsome.
She was tall and slender, and had something of the carriage of
a person of superior station. This and this alone was revealed
in the dim lamp light. The clock struck 9.

(27:32):
The passers by became fewer and fewer, but still the woman
watched and waited. At last, as the strokes that
told the hour died away upon thenight air, she was suddenly
joined by a man muffled in a thick coat, and with his face
concealed by the broad brim of the hat which he wore slouched
over his eyes. As this man approached, a tall,

(27:52):
raw boned, awkward looking country lad, who had passed
backward and forward several times, unobserved by the woman
while she had been waiting, descended the steps by the
column and followed the two, keeping at a respectful
distance. You are late.
Mr. Lucas, said the woman. I was busy, answered the man in
a strange metallic voice, a voice which sounded as if the

(28:14):
owner so seldom held communion with his fellow men that the
very voice within him had grown stiff and rusty and creaked like
some piece of disused iron machinery with every word he
uttered. You were busy.
That is always your answer. Did you forget?
You had appointed to meet me here at a. 7:45 this evening.
I scarcely forgot, said the man in the same harsh, grating

(28:37):
tones. I did not exactly forget, but
the hours crept on one by one and the darkness gathered, and
yet I could not leave my work. It was such interesting work, so
very interesting. Will you have?
Come at last. At any rate, that is something.
Have you brought the money? No, Missus Montmercy, no, we are
not quite so reckless as that. We don't bring money into the

(29:01):
streets to be robbed of it as wewalk along, or to be knocked
down in a solitary place like this, for instance, he muttered,
looking about him. And have the precious stuff
taken from our pockets while we lay stunned by some treacherous
blow. Why, how do I know that you may
not have a bottle of chloroform about you now, when a
handkerchief steeped in it, ready to fling it in my face?

(29:21):
That you may rob me? Yes, that you may rob me, but it
would be wasted labour. He added with a chuckle.
For I haven't a Farthing with me.
Not a Farthing. You must have lived amongst
strange people to have grown so suspicious, said the woman, whom
he had called Missus Montmorency.
I have lived amongst strange people, stranger people than you

(29:42):
ever met with in your life, though you may have seen a great
deal of the world. People so strange that if I were
to tell you of them, you'd thinkI was dreaming or mad.
Or a liar. Unless.
Unless you were. But no, no, that can't be.
What? Can't be asked, Missus
Montmorency. If her veil had been raised at
that moment, the man might have perceived, in the light of the

(30:05):
lamp near to them, a strange sardonic smile upon her care.
Worn features. Never mind what this is, Mont
Parency. No business of yours.
You know, my dear good soul, nothing whatever to do with you.
All you want of me is money, andyou shall have it.
You shall have it if you're prepared to pay well for it. 50%
remember, Not a penny less. I'll pay what you like, answered

(30:26):
the woman with the same sardonicsmile.
Only let me have the money. You shall have it, my dear
Missus Mont Parency. You shall have it.
Can I come? To your chambers for it, yes,
yes, you shall come there. That will be the safest tonight.
Yes, tonight, directly, if you please.
At this very moment the tall, raw booned country lad of whom

(30:46):
we have spoken before walked slowly past them, whistling as
he went along. He carried a small baskin on his
arm, and if the old money lendernoticed him at all, it was only
to take him for some tradesman'sboy going on an errand after the
shops were closed. As this young man approached,
Missus Montmorency happened to drop her handkerchief, and the
country lad, with more politeness than might have been

(31:07):
expected from his rough exterior, stooped to pick it up
and restore it to her. Thank you, young man, she said.
I did not hope to be treated with such gallantry.
She uttered the words in a clearand distinct voice, the young
man staring at her intently all the while, as if he feared
losing 1 syllable of what she said to him, And then with an

(31:27):
awkward bow, he walked on, stillwhistling.
The user would have perhaps feltconsiderable surprise had he
beheld this young man entirely altering his manner the moment
he was out of sight, run rapidlyup the steps by the Duke of
York's column, then into Pall Mall, where he hailed a passing
handsome cab. To the Albany.
He said to the driver as he sprang into the vehicle.

(31:49):
Still the man and woman walked slowly up and down behind
Carlton Terrace. It seemed almost as if Misses
Montmorency, in spite of her eagerness to secure the money,
was for some reason or other anxious to detain.
The user in the deserted thoroughfare of Saint James
Park. Once or twice he had proposed
returning to his chambers, and each time she made some
frivolous objection. At last, he said, with the

(32:11):
peevish irritability of an old man, I'm used to consult the
wishes of others. If you want the money, Mrs.
Montmorenza, you'd better come for it at once.
I don't feel inclined to waste much more of my time out here in
the damp night air. I'm an old man.
I'm not so strong as you, ma'am,I dare say When you please, Mr.
Lucas, she answered. I am quite ready to accompany
you. Then we'll take a cab at Charing

(32:34):
Cross, said the old man. No pay for it.
Of course. My clients always pay for cab
fare under such circumstances, and you ought to pay my fare
here too. I can't waste my time in dancing
attendance upon you. I can pay for no cabs tonight,
said Missus Montmorency. I told you I wanted the money
desperately, and of course if I'd had a purse full I shouldn't
have said so. I'm about as rich as yourself.

(32:55):
I have not a halfpenny. Let's be off then, said Mr.
Lucas. You can walk pretty fast, I
suppose. At any rate, they went straight
from the park, through Whitehall, Parliament St.
Bridge St. and across Westminster Bridge, not turning
until they came into York Rd. From the York Rd. they passed
into Stamford St., and here the old man, who had walked so

(33:16):
rapidly that his companion was almost exhausted by her efforts
to keep pace with him, stopped to draw breath.
I lead a hard life, Missus Montmorency, he said, as he
clung to the railings before a house against which they
stopped. A cruel, hard life, and a life
that has neither hope nor joy end, nor aim, except the grave,
except the lonely, dismal, forgotten grave in which I shall

(33:39):
lie and rot before many years are over.
I've had a bitter disappointment, woman, which has
changed me into a demon. A disappointment that has
changed my blood to gall and transformed all the love that
was once there in this withered heart into hatred and fury.
One of those disappointments that make a man loathe his
fellow creatures and love to visit upon the innocent the
tortures inflicted upon them by the guilty.

(34:02):
What was this? Disappointment.
Asked the woman gently, for the wildness of the usurer's manner
almost alarmed her. It was the disappointment of
finding. Black ingratitude where I looked
for tender love, cried the old usurer.
It was the disappointment of finding a Viper in the nest
where I thought I had reared a dove.
It was the disappointment of having an only child for whose

(34:23):
happiness I would have sold my soul.
Turn for me and leave me in my desolate old age without a word,
without a tear. Leave me to starve for aught she
knew, or to kill myself in the despair of losing her.
It was very cruel, murmured Mrs.Montmorency.
Cruel, cried the old man, walking slowly on, and speaking
in a hoarse, suppressed voice that told of the powerful

(34:46):
emotion which convulsed him. Cruel.
It was the work of a demon, and in all outwards seeming my child
was an Angel for her sake. I, the last male descendant of
one of the proudest families in England, lived like a pauper in
the lodge at the gates of the house which I had been in
intimate years before. For her sake I became the
companion of bad men. For her sake I soiled my hands

(35:08):
with foul deeds which have made me the Wretch I am now.
Shaw woman, he said testily, as Mrs. Montmorency was about to
interrupt him. Don't attempt to flatter me.
I know what I am, and I'm used to myself as I now AM.
Oh, this I did for the child I love.
That she might at least be rich,powerful, honoured and happy,
that she might restore these oldhalls in which the bat now

(35:30):
roosts and the fearless spider weaves her web, that she might
know all the joys which for years had been denied to me.
And she said, Mrs. Montmorency, she deserted me, cried the
Usurer. She stole away from me without
leaving so much as one line in her handwriting to break the
bitterness of the blue she. Fled for me with a villain and

(35:52):
from that hour to this I have never heard of her.
By this time they had reached the end of Stamford St., opening
into the Blackfriars Rd. Mr. Lucas stopped before a house
which, from its ruined and dilapidated appearance, the
blackness of the window panes, the broken iron railing slowly
rusting away, the dirt and straws accumulated around the
door, and the general aspect of desolation and decay which

(36:15):
overshadowed the whole building,looked as if it must have been
in Chancery. It was not so, however, for the
user, taking a latch key from his pocket, unlocked the door
and walked into the hall, followed closely by Misses
Montmorency. There was no lamp in the hall
and the lamps in the street weresituated at some distance from
the house occupied by Mr. Lucas.The summer night was dark and

(36:37):
starless, and as the user entered his hall and walked
quickly toward an interior bays door, he did not perceive that
he was followed by another person besides Missus
Montmorency. This third person was a man,
tall and slender and muffled in a loose overcoat.
As Mr. Lucas was about to open the bay's door, Missus
Montmorency started with a cry of surprise.

(36:59):
The user returned quickly to seewhat was the matter.
I thought I heard a knock, she said.
A knock where? At the street door.
Shaw, a woman mere fancy. There was no knock.
My ears are sharp enough and I heard nothing.
During this brief dialogue the stranger had contrived to open
the bay's door, and crept lightly up the staircase.
Stay, said Mr. Lucas, there is alamp somewhere about here, and

(37:22):
as you are a stranger to the place, I'd better light it.
He took the lamp from a niche inthe wall and lighted it with a
match that was lying near. The lamp gave a bright and vivid
light, and for the first time Missus Montmorency beheld the
interior of the user's house. A strange sight met the eyes of
the astonished woman. Marble statues were ranged on

(37:43):
each side of the paneled hall, the woodwork of which was
crumbling away and falling to pieces from sheer neglect.
Upon these decaying panels hung pictures whose value was
something fabulous, pictures by the greatest of the Italian
masters, pictures which had onlyto be offered in the auction
room to bring the richest nobleman of the land together,
eager to possess them. Several lamps hung from the

(38:05):
arched ceiling, 1 of bronze, 1 of gilt, one of solid silver,
But silver, bronze, and gilt were alike black with dust and
dirt. The broken glass of the globes
had fallen to the ground, to be trodden into the rich carpet,
the once splendid colors of which were scarcely perceptible
for the dust which shrouded them.
The staircase presented the sameappearance as the entrance hall.

(38:27):
Here again, valuable paintings adorned the walls, marble
statues stood in niches in the landing places, everywhere the
same splendor and the same decay.
The apartment into which the money lender ushered his visitor
was furnished with a splendor and luxury which bewildered the
senses of those who beheld it for the first time.
Magnificent cabinets inlaid withgolden gems, velvet covered

(38:50):
sofas with heavy fringes and tassels of bullion.
Gaudy curtains of rich satin hanging before the blackened
windows. Dresden and severed China upon
the cracked marble mantelpiece. All that the mind could imagine
of wealth and luxury, yet all alike bearing the traces of long
years of neglect. Mine.
Muttered the moneylender as he held up the lamp and watched his

(39:12):
clients astonished gaze. Mine all mine.
The property of fools who could not keep what they once held,
and the property of women who coined their smiles into gold
till old age and wrinkles overtook them, and they were
glad to come to the money lenderfor help.
The property of idiots who believed in love and friendship
and had squandered their money upon knaves and false women.
All all all. Glad to come to the user, or at

(39:35):
last. He laughed aloud, rubbing his
shriveled hands together as he looked about him.
I have had this place for 15 years, he said, ever since the
daughter who has now deserted mewas a little toddling child. 15
years, and over that time I havebeen supposed to live at the
lodge gates of the mansion over which I was once lowered. 15

(39:55):
long laborious years during which I have been backwards and
forwards, forwards and backwards, calculating and
plotting and working to get the fortune which was to make my
child rich and powerful. Well, it was a bitter
disappointment, a cruel and harddisappointment, but now to
business. His whole manner changed as he
spoke. He hurried across the room, and

(40:15):
going to a cabinet of ivory and guilt, unlocked a drawer and
began to search through a packetof papers.
While Mr. Lucas, the user, is thus employed, we must retrace
our steps for a little, and follow the awkward country lad
to the entrance of the Albany. Here he was about to dismiss the
handsome cab, but appearing suddenly to recollect himself,
he told the driver that if he cared about getting another

(40:37):
fare, he might wait for 10 minutes.
Having said which, the young manwalked at once to the chambers
occupied by Colonel Oscar Bertrand.
The chambers, as our reader willeasily imagine, were furnished
in a fashion of aristocratic elegance and splendor.
A drawing room, a library, a tiny smoking divan, all LED one
out of the other, and a winding bronze staircase LED from the

(40:58):
divan to the colonel's bed and dressing room.
The Austrian was not at home, the servant who opened the door
told the young man, but if his name was Timpson, he was to
wait. He said his name was Timpson and
the man led him into the hall where he told him to take a
chair. The Colonel came in at 8:30.
The footman said. And asked if you had been, he

(41:20):
said he should return at 9:30. It's 9:45 by this time.
Answered Mr. Timpson, and as he spoke a loud double knock
resounded upon the panel of the door.
That is the Colonel's knock. Said the servant, hastening to
admit his master. Timpson.
Exclaimed the Colonel as the young man arose from his chair.

(41:40):
I thought you had quite forgotten my little mission.
Come this way. He led the young man into the
library. As he spoke, the country lad
stared about him at the carved oak bookshelves loaded with
volumes bound in Crimson Moroccoand gold.
The glittering lamp, the green cloth curtains and rich Turkey
carpet. All were so strange to him that

(42:01):
he stood open mouthed with admiration.
I thought you had forgotten me, Timothy, said the Colonel.
For though it is wiser to call you, Mr. Timson, before other
people, Timothy will do very well between ourselves.
I thought you had forgotten me, or that you had failed in the
Commission I had entrusted you with.
And yet, though you are but a country lad, I give you credit
for being able to succeed. I hadn't forgotten you, Sir,

(42:24):
said Timothy, whom our readers will already recognize as
Timothy Hodge. I haven't forgotten, and I
haven't failed in what you gave me to do.
But I had to wait for him as yousent me to watch.
Didn't come till it had struck 9and then I had to wait until she
gave me the signal and that was an eye upon half an hour 1st and
I wasn't about 10 minutes. It's coming up here good, said

(42:45):
the Austrian. We shall be there before them, I
told the cab. Man has brought me here to wait,
said Timothy. I thought you might want a fast
cab where you couldn't trust your own carriage.
Good again. Cried Colonel Bertrand.
Why, Timothy, you are by no means the fool your personal
appearance would lead me to mistake you for.
You are by no means an unworthy member of the black band.

(43:07):
A brain that can think, an arm that can strike in a tongue that
can be silent. Those are the three qualities,
remember, Timothy, that make a good member.
And now good night. You will call it Mr. Samuel
Cranks tomorrow for your wages. The young man made an awkward
bow and left the room. The servant was waiting in the
little hall to show the humble visitor out, wondering what his

(43:29):
master could want with such a rough lad, for it was not the
Colonel's ordinary practice to transact business at his private
residence, the affairs of the mysterious company of which he
was the Grand Master, who were too well organized for this.
As soon as the Colonel was alone, he opened the door
leading into the divan. This tiny circular apartment was
illuminated with a globe of ground glass that shed a subdued

(43:53):
and chasing light over the maroon colored velvet cushions
around the side of the room. Upon one of these cushions lay
the Marquess of Willoughby, fastasleep.
Lionel exclaimed, the Colonel endeavouring to arouse the young
man from his heavy slumber. Lord Willoughby awoke with a
start. You have been so long away,
Bertrand, that I smoked a coupleof cigars and then fell asleep.

(44:16):
What has detained you? Policy, said the Austrian
policy. I have been seen this evening by
all the fashionable world. I have been at Lord Van Desert's
dinner party, which I only just left, as I said, to go to the
ball at Chornington House. Whatever happens tonight, I have
proved my alibi. A cab is waiting to convey us to

(44:37):
Stamford Street where we are to meet face to face with a
renegade from our company. A Renegade.
Yes, a man who joined us 15 years ago, who through being
associated with us, has scraped together wealth which I cannot
calculate, but which I know to be immense, and who six months
ago deserted us. Tonight he will render an

(44:58):
account for that desertion. You are young amongst us, Lord
Willoughby. It will be well for you to see
the manner in which we act toward an old associate who
breaks his oath. In this case I do not trust.
To the executioners of the Order.
I go myself and would have you accompany me.
I may want your aid. And in any case, the business of
tonight will be a warning to you, should you ever feel

(45:20):
tempted to be false to the oath you took upon the 20th of last
December. The flashing eyes of the Colonel
were fixed upon the young nobleman's face as he spoke
these last words. Lord Willoughby quailed beneath
that searching glance. How often had he not thought of
breaking the terrible oath whichhad made him, until the hour of
his death, one of the companionsof midnight?

(45:45):
OK, well isn't this getting interesting?
Clearly this money lender is Louis Clavering, and clearly he
is being set up to be eliminatedby his son-in-law.
We know Colonel Bertrand is a bad dude, but if this goes the
way we have to think it will, it's a low point even for him.
And you've no idea. As we'll find out in Chapter 18

(46:08):
next time, it really is. Do you remember how the Colonel
is kind of throwing off hints that the companions of Midnight
are kind of hungry for money right now?
Right, Remember that. Keep that in mind, and trust me,
The depravity of Colonel Mephistopheles is about to reach
a new low in the chapter. We'll continue this scene after
Misses Montemorenci leaves. Lucas is doing some paperwork

(46:30):
when a black clad figure steps up behind him and puts a hand on
his shoulder. An executioner of the Order.
This is no ordinary executioner.He unmasks himself, and it's
Colonel Oscar Bertrand himself. Scoundrel, Clavering cries a
base and treacherous scoundrel who crept.
Beneath an old. Man's roof to steal his only and
beloved child. And he snatches up a pistol from

(46:53):
his desk and the room is filled with smoke and noise.
Is this the end for Colonel Bertrand?
Nope. And that's all I can say without
spoiling the chapter. Trust me, you do not want it
spoiled. Now let's visit one of the old
Victorian comedy magazines. These aren't as funny today as
they were back in the 1840s, because they tend to be peppered

(47:14):
with contemporary pop cultural and political references that
only the deepest diving scholar of early Victorian life can
catch today. But some of them can still be
pretty amusing, and they give usa window into the amusements and
humors of the age. In this particular case, it is
the least flattering descriptionof a literary critic you could

(47:35):
imagine. A serially frustrated would be
author, self declared genius in residence at a prison serving a
lengthy sentence for swindling people, who has decided to give
up on making his literary mark in the world and turn to tearing
down others. I won't steal any more of its
Thunder. Here it comes.
This one is from Punch Magazine and was published in one of its

(47:57):
very earliest issues. This offering from the July
31st, 1841 issue of Punch Magazine comes in the form of a
satirical purportedly from someone applying for the
position of critic on Punch's staff and presenting his
credentials for such a position.Here we go.

(48:19):
It's titled A Fair Offer. In compliance with my usual
practice, I send you this lettercontaining A trifling
biographical sketch and an offerof my literary services.
I don't suppose you will accept them treating me As for 43 years
past all the journals of this empire have done, for I have
offered my contributions to themall all.

(48:42):
It was in the year 1798 that escaping from a French prison,
that of too long where I had been condemned to the hoax for
forgery. I say from a French prison, but
to find myself incarcerated in an English dungeon, fraudulent
bankruptcy, implicated in swindling transactions,
falsification of accounts and contempt of court.
So I began to amuse my hours of imprisonment by literary

(49:04):
composition. I sent in that year my apology
for the Corsican relative to themurder of Captain Wright, to the
late Mr. Perry of the Morning Chronicle, preparing an answer
to the same in the Times Journal.
But as the apology was not accepted, though the argument of
it was quite clear, and much to my credit, so neither was the
answer received. A sublime piece, Mr. Punch.

(49:27):
An unanswerable answer. In the year 1799 I made an
attempt on the journal of the late Reverend Mr. Thomas Hill,
then fast sinking in years, but he had ill treated my father,
pursuing him before Mr. Justice Fielding, for robbing him of a
snuff box in the year 1740, and he continued his resentment
towards my father's unoffending son.

(49:49):
I was cruelly rebuffed by Mr. Hill, as indeed I have been by
every other newspaper proprietor.
No, there is not a single periodical print which has
appeared for 43 years since, to which I did not make some
application. I have buy me essays and
fugitive pieces in 14 trunks, 7 carpet bags of trifles in verse,

(50:10):
and a portmanteau with the best part of an epic poem, which it
does not become me to praise. I have no less than 495 acts of
dramatic composition which have been rejected even by the
Syncretic Association, such as the set that for 43 years has
been made against a man of genius by an envious literary
world. Are you going to follow in its

(50:32):
wake? No less than 7300 times the
exact number of my applications?Have I asked that question?
Think well before you reject me,Mr. Punch.
Think well and at least listen to what I have to say.
It is this. I am not.
Wishing any longer to come forward with tragedies, epics,
essays or original compositions.I am old now, morose in temper,

(50:56):
troubled with poverty, jaundice,imprisonment and habitual
indigestion. I hate everybody.
And with the exception of gin and water, everything I know,
every language, both in the known and unknown worlds.
I am profoundly ignorant of history, or indeed of any other
useful science, but have a smattering of all.
I am excellently qualified to judge and lash the vices of the

(51:18):
age, having experienced, I may almost say, every one of them,
in my own person. The immortal and immoral Goethe,
the celebrated sage of Germany, has made exactly the same
confession. I have a few and curious
collections of Latin and Greek quotations.
And what is the result? I draw from this this simple
one, that of all men living, I am the most qualified to be a

(51:40):
critic and hereby offer myself to your notice.
In that capacity. Recollect, I am always at home
Fleet Prison letter L 4th staircase, Pauper's Ward, for a
Guinea and a bottle of Hodges cordial.
I will do anything. I will for that sum cheerfully
abuse my own father or mother. I can smash Shakespeare, I can
prove Milton to be a dribbler orthe contrary.

(52:02):
But for preference, take, as I have said, the abusive line.
Send me over then, Mr. P, any person's works whose sacrifice
you may require. I will cut him up, Sir.
I will flay him, flagellate him,finish him.
You had better not send me unless you have a private grudge
against the authors, when I am of course at your service.
You had better not send me any works of real merit, for I am

(52:24):
infallibly prepared to show there is not any merit in them.
I have not been one of the greatunread for 43 years.
Without turning my misfortunes to some account, Sir, I know how
to make use of my adversity. I have been accused, and
rightfully too, of swindling, forgery and slander.
I have many times been kicked downstairs.

(52:44):
I am totally deficient in personal courage, But though I
can't fight, I can rail I And well, send me somebody's works
and you'll see how I will treat them.
Will you have personal scandal? I'm your man.
I will swear away the character not only of an author, but if
his whole family, the female members of it especially.

(53:05):
Do you suppose I care for being beaten?
Bah, I care no more for floggingthan a boy does at Eden.
Only let the flogger beware. I will be a match for him.
I warned you. The man who beats me is a
coward, for he knows I won't resist.
Let the dastard strike me then, or leave me as he likes.
But for a choice, I prefer abusing women who have no

(53:26):
brothers or guardians. For regarding a thrashing with
indifference, I am not such a ninius to prefer it.
And here you have an accurate account of my habits, history,
and disposition. Farewell, Sir, if I can be
useful to you, command me. If you insert this letter, you
will of course pay for it upon my order to that effect.
I say this, lest an unprincipledwife and children should apply

(53:48):
to you for money. They are in a state of
starvation, and will scruple at no dastardly stratagem to
procure money. I spent every shilling of Missus
Jenkinson's property 45 years ago.
I am Sir, your humble servant, Diogenes Jenkinson, son of the
late Efraim Jenkinson, well known to Doctor O Goldsmith, the
Reverend Primrose DD, Vicar of Wakefield, Doctor Johnson of

(54:11):
Dictionary Celebrity and other literary gentlemen of the last
century. There is an editor's note
following this publication from the editor of Punch.
Of course it is just as satirical as the letter itself
is. We gratefully accept the offer
of Mr. Giogenes Jenkinson, whosequalifications render him
admirably adapted to fill a situation which Mr. John Ketch

(54:33):
has most unhandsomely resigned, doubtless stimulated there too,
by the probable accession to power of his old friends, the
Tories. We like a man who dares to own
himself. A Jenkinson editor.
That concludes this episode of the weekly Penny Dreadful
Variety Hour. I hope you'll join me again next

(54:55):
week, Same spring heal time and same spring heal channel for our
next show. But there's no need to wait a
whole week. We've got 1/2 hour Tupany
Terrible Tuesday episode coming up in just two days.
And in it we'll have chapter 55 of Sweeney Todd, in which you
remember the last chapter, right?
Todd was shaving Mr. Mundell, the money lender that he took
for 8000 lbs with the stolen pearls.

(55:17):
Now a tailor comes into John Mundell's room to get him ready
to go to court and recognizes Todd.
It's the same Taylor who made the clothes for Todd that.
He used to fool Mundell into thinking he was a Duke to pawn
the pearls. How did the?
Pompadour colored coat in the velvet smalls do, eh?
He cries. Fit well.
Lord, what a rum. Start for a Barber to have a.
Suit of clothes fit for a Duke. Todd kicks him out, but Mundell

(55:41):
now looks like he's getting wise.
Is Sweeney Todd busted? How will he get out of this one?
In addition to that, we'll have another spicy saloon song or two
more flash can't words, and maybe some other stuff too.
All that will be coming your wayin two nights at Dick Turpin.
Scragging hour 5371737. Military time this coming

(56:03):
Tuesday Eve. Before we share you off as
usual, we've got one or two dorky old early Victorian dad
jokes to share, courtesy of Joe Miller's Jests or the Wits Vade
Meekum, the most famous collection of alleged wisecracks
of the early 1800s and late 1700s.

(56:24):
A country clergyman meeting a neighbor who never came to
church. Although an old fellow of above
60, he gave him some reproof on that account, and asked him if
he never read it home. No, replied the clown.
I can't read. I dare say.
Said the Parson. You don't know who made you.
Not I in truth, said the countryman.
A little boy. Coming by at the same time.

(56:46):
Who made you child? Said the Parson.
God, Sir. Answered the boy.
Why look there? Quoth the honest.
Clergyman, are you not ashamed to hear a child of five or six
years old tell me who made him, when you that are so old a man
cannot? Ah, said the countryman.
It is no wonder that he should remember he was made the other
day. It is a great while master since

(57:08):
I was made. A certain reverend gentleman in
the country was complaining to another that it was a great
fatigue to preach twice a day. Oh, said the other, I preach
twice every Sunday and make nothing of it.
Well, that's it for us. Our theme music is a version of

(57:29):
Golden Slippers, A minstrel showsong written by James A Bland in
1879. This version is by Seattle old
time band $4.00 Shoe. For more of their music, see
$4.00 shoe.com. That's the number for the word
dollar in the word SHOE all crammed together into one word,
all lowercase. Penny Dreadful Variety Hour is a

(57:50):
creation of pulp lit productions.
For more details, see pulp-lit.com.
To get in touch with me, I'm at finn@pulp-lit.com.
Thanks again for joining me Manab's.
It's time for us to Pike off like we spotted a red West.
Get down the lane for the Penny Dreadful Variety Hour.
I'm Finn, JD, John signing off and now fair forth and fill up

(58:11):
the rest of the week with all that is Rumpty Tum with the
chill off Bye now.

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.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}2.15: A midnight secret wedding! — Lucas Clavering's secret wealth. — Recovery of a woman hanged for murder!